A Demons Help
by Mocha-Berrytan
Summary: A mage can't use magic without hands; but with an ally in need of help Hawke goes to the extreme to help. This story is mainly M!HawkexFenris, but will hint at almost everyone having some kind of emotional tie. Warning for my love of violence. Please R&R


_I warn you, this is fairly lengthy and will have future chapters. I started writing this before I finished the game, so it's pretty out of whack with the time-line but should mean there aren't any spoilers for those who are only in Act 2! Characters all belong to Bioware, Garrett Hawke is based off a blood mage which I created on my Dragon Age 2 campaign who (funnily enough) ended up with Isabela, oh well. Can't have it all._

"He is gone, lost! Do you not care?"

The irate mage spat into the face of the elf, his eyes clouded by hate. He was annoyed at how calm the warrior seemed to be in such a terrible situation. Hawke was missing and the once great city of Kirkwall was crumbling around their feet. "He helped you. Was at your side as you took on Hadrianna, and all you can do is sit around and wait?" The elf looked up from his seat and shook his head; this only added to the mages aggravation. Varric had ordered that all of them meet at the Hawke estate so they could go through his mail, question his servant and rummage through his belongings to try and find an answer to where the hero had gone. It had been almost 3 days now since he seemed to vanish, and it was tearing the group apart.

Hawkes' mother was trying her hardest not to cry as she traced her fingers over her last child's finery: she did not want to lose Garrett, not like how she had lost Carver and Bethany. After Anders had quelled there was an odd silence suffocating them, broken only by the occasional turn of a page as Isabela took her time in analysing his accounts and letters. Merrill was pacing back and forth, her nails scratching over her skin as her eyes tried to find anything of importance in the room.

"I can't stand this."

Finally Fenris stood, his gaze meeting each member before he turned to leave. Anders went to lunge for him, but Varric and Isabela managed to stop him; the elf had made up his mind.

As Fenris stepped out into Hightown he allowed his eyes to close, his hands slowly wrapping around his waist as he felt the cool night time breeze against his heated skin. He couldn't handle the atmosphere in the estate, it was far too intense and besides, Fenris had his own problems to panic about. Denarius was still out there, waiting from him in the shadows. With a quick nod Fenris headed off in the way of his own home, determined to try and make some progress with his own investigations (it was true that Hawke had been a useful ally, but he was a blood mage, and so Fenris had never really thought to consider them friends). Though upon entering his house the elf could tell something wasn't right, his hand jerked to the hilt of his sword as the strong scent of blood rushed into his nose and the familiar voice of his master stung his ears.

"I'm glad you came back here, it was hard to keep your present still for so long."

Fenris looked around, his eyes straining to try and make out where the voice was coming from. His main hall was as derelict as ever, but much darker than he remembered and the floor beneath his feet felt...damp. "I refuse to be your slave, I'll kill you where you stand" His words came out as a deep growl as he pulled his sword from its resting place on his back and took a defensive position, sure that there were many others hiding in the shadows of his abode.

"Oh tut tut, and you haven't even seen your present yet."

At this Fenris could feel his tattoos burn as the lyrium within them began to flow freely, causing his skin to glow a bright blue. This sudden appearance of light flooded the room, bathing all of its horrific contents in an eerie spotlight. The elf held back a gag as the body in front of him was illuminated, hanging upside down, its throat thinly slit and its eyes fluttering in shock at the new light. There was no mistaking who this was. Hawke. This came as a great shock to him; he had always considered Hawke as a stronger mage than Denarius, with a painfully good grasp on the horrors of blood magic: there must be some explanation. "Hawke. Why...h..how?" He whispered, his voice strained as his eyes struggled to focus on something.

Garrett tried to speak, but as he opened his mouth blood spluttered forth and landed on Fenris' cheek, so instead he took to smiling and indicated towards his bound arms. He had been hung for quite some time, and so his thoughts were swimming around within his mind, so even if he could speak it was doubtful that he would have been able to explain himself. Fenris stepped round and reached out for what he thought were Hawkes bound hands, but was greeted by nothing but blood: A mage cannot cast spells without hands.

"Let him go!" Fenris shouted up to his old master, his sword now pointed in the old croons direction. "I will show you no mercy, Denarius!" His growl bounced off the walls as Fenris leapt forward and onto the upper level where the mage was standing, now shrouded in an impenetrable force field. From out of the shadows stepped a large collection of Tevinter guards and mercenaries, ranging from all kinds of specialities. Denarius had prepared this quite well, as per usual, except this time Fenris had no allies to help him out in the fight.

"I thought you would enjoy watching a _blood mage_ drown in their own energy source."

The poison which tainted Denarius' words was crippling (was this really how he spoke about Hawke?) "Garrett Hawke is a blood mage who knows his limits." This caused a cruel smirk to tug at Denarius' lips. He found it amusing how the elf was so willing to change his opinions for just one man and it became obvious that perhaps deep down Fenris may have seen the Feralden as more than simply an ally.

Hawke could hear the conversations in the background and could vaguely figure out that, without help, Fenris was screwed. Dying, and with no hands, he found himself with no other option. The floor beneath him was slowly beginning to build up with potential energy, but he needed the ability to manipulate it. And so Hawke closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift, the blood beneath him shifted only slightly and within seconds he was standing once more; but not in the real world.

The walls around him began to ungulate, like some creature beckoning him forward, and so obediently the maleficarum followed. The fade was a place which Hawke himself detested; it was the place in which everyone became susceptible to the dark forces within it. It was true that not all spirits were demons trying to trap you, but spirits of Justice and Virtue were hard to come by, besides it was not them which Hawke was seeking out. "I seek help, Demon of Pride. " Those dangerous words, which as a mage Hawke had hoped would never have to escape his lips, seem to come from him frightfully well. Though as soon as they did he had to force the feeling of regret back into the pits of his stomach as it was not long before a powerful beast began to take shape before him, its spiny body twisting horrifically and its long tongue lapping at its sharp teeth as it hungrily looked upon the handless, and weak form of Garrett Hawke.

"**A mage with no hands? What an amusing sight! Do tell me **_**how**_** you expect me to take such a request seriously, when your most valuable assets have been removed."**

The Pride demon laughed like a hell-bent dog, its cackles suffocated Hawkes ability to think. "The fact I am in the fade without them should tell you of my strength." There was a pause as the two entities eyed each other up, each with their own intent. Hawke then held out his wrists.

"I know you have the magic to return them."

Hawkes voice remained strong; he could not show any weakness. He had studied possession and he had to make sure he was able to stay in control, saying things such as 'I will give you anything in return' is foolish, so he had to make sure he worded his terms carefully. "Once my hands are returned I will help you restore a demonic doorway on the surface, I know where one stands. Then, once a month for a year after I will allow you to possess me and feed on the desperates which loiter around the outside of Kirkwall." The demon lent further in as Hawke began to explain his terms which were exceedingly well thought out, and very clever.

But the demon laughed and lifted up one of his own large claws to show two digits. **"Two years you shall be bound in my debt. One for each hand. And after your battle you will sleep for a month and anyone who touches you and shows their feelings shall become tainted. Agree to these terms, and you have a deal." ** The remaining digits were exposed and the whole hand extended out. It was the thought of those around him becoming tainted which caused Garrett to hesitate (especially Anders, who was already so susceptible due to Justice) but eventually he extended his arm and nodded. As his arm reached out towards the demon dark magic surrounded him and his hand returned in time to shake the demons own and seal the deal: the touch caused his stomach to churn and within an instant he was once more upside down, but now his body was filled with a dark power he had never once accessed.

Fenris stumbled back and closed his eyes as he expected his body to collide harshly with the ground below him, but was pleasantly shocked when familiar arms wrapped around him and caught him. Hawke strengthened his low stance and glared up Denarius, his eyes glowing with a bright purple rage which the elf had never seen before. The room became brighter as the blood around them swirled and ignited into flames hungry for fuel: the ferocity of the heat was overwhelming, but Fenris did not move nor object. He knew exactly what had happened. Hawke had his hands back, you don't get limbs for free and the sickly evil power which seemed to be radiating from him was not too dissimilar to what he felt around Anders and Justice.

"I pity you"

Hawke's voice strained; the fire around them lapped at Denarius' shield with a cruel intent. "Do you doubt your own abilities so much that you will not face me head on? That you must rid me of my own conduits?" The blood mage then laughed and stood, allowing Fenris to stand on his own devices, cracking his knuckles and peering around. Garrett was careful, though, and made sure that his mind did not become drunk on the sudden influx of power. He could not take more than he needed from the demon, or risk worsening his already deep debt.

All of a sudden a yell erupted from behind him and a heavily armed warrior lunged for him, his large bastard sword carving its way through the air. Hawke simply lifted his arm and caught the blade; rocks had begun to form around his skin as a shield and served as defence enough to ensure his new hands weren't ruined so quickly. The blade only slightly lodged itself between his thumb and his forefinger, but the limited blood released from the wound surged forward as lightening and struck the warrior in the face – killing him. In one swift motion Hawke gripped the sword and swung his whole body around, eventually to a point where he released the blade and watched as if was flung straight into the throat of another mercenary. He had to even the tables, and it was occasions like these which made being a blood mage so blighting useful. The now dead mercenary's eyes rolled into the back of his head, Hawke made a brief sweeping motion, spreading his fingers out like a puppeteer and the blood which had begun to seep from the mercenary's neck gushed out over all of the hired thugs in the room. It was not long before all of their, frankly unimpressive, minds were under his control.

Fenris simply watched on, horrified at what was happening. He had never seen Hawke use his blood magic so vivaciously, it had only ever really been a last resort option for when he was low on traditional mana. Denarius, too, was in shock. The shield around him had crumbled as he watched his chances of survival dwindle into nothingness. "I am many things, Serah Hawke, but I am _not_ a demon!" At this Hawke did laugh, a laugh that was truly inhuman. His skin cracked and fissured as violet light seeped through and cloaked him in a chilling warmth; the men around him creaked and turned their heads to stare at Denarius with blank, robotic eyes each one lifting a sword and pointing it at the mages head.

"Stop!"

Fenris shouted, knocking Hawke down and onto the ground. The soldiers dropped their arms, but remained in their zombie-like state. Hawke still laughed, the fire still around them finally surged towards Denarius and hissed at his weak attempts to deflect it. However, distracted by the vicious flames barking at his feet, the wizard had no time to react to the short sword which had pierced up his rib cage and through his heart from behind: courtesy of his most loyal Tevinter dog.

Denarius' eyes glazed over and Fenris could only watch, speechless, as his master smiled and collapsed to the ground. The elf didn't know if he was happy. He was glad that his master was dead, that he was officially free, but the circumstances at which it happened were not what he expected.

Now no longer of any use, the soldiers around them were drained of life and joined their master on the ground. Fenris turned sharply and pulled Hawke up from the floor, annoyed that the monster was still laughing. "This was _not_ how it was supposed to happen!" He shouted into the delusional mages face, his tattoos still burning, his face hauntingly illuminated by the purple still spitting from Hawkes complexion. "You disgust me." As the elf said this Hawke stopped laughing, the purple light began to fade as his anger quelled and his lips curled up into a mischievous smile.

"You disgust me."

The blood mage retorted back before all his energy left him and his eyes shut closed. It was just as the demon had promised: now he was confined to his prison to watch as his body slowly poisoned those around him. But at least Fenris was safe. At least Fenris was free.


End file.
